Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest novel Chapter 1058

Eleanor's fingers curled slightly behind her back, tension coiled beneath her usually pristine posture. Still no proof. Still no concrete signature to grasp. But instincts this sharp didn't lie.

She needed answers.

Her gaze swept over the group again—Sylvie, Irina, Layla, Jasmine—each still faintly tense beneath the shadow of what had just happened. The moment was waning, but the residual charge hadn't fully cleared. The mana in the air still tasted off.

She took a breath.

"Everyone," she said, tone calm but unmistakably final. "Leave us."

There was a beat of silence—brief, but thick.

Layla's expression immediately fell. "Wait—Professor, Astron didn't do anything. If this is about—"

"Out," Eleanor repeated, sharper now. "This is between me and him."

Irina didn't argue. She gave a slight nod and turned, guiding the others with quiet authority. Jasmine hesitated, throwing a glance toward Astron like she half-expected him to collapse under pressure. Sylvie lingered the longest, her eyes narrowing just slightly—not suspicious, but protective.

Eleanor said nothing more.

And eventually, they left.

Astron stood there, unmoving, hands at his sides, face unreadable.

He hadn't flinched. Hadn't sighed. Hadn't even tilted his head in that way he usually did when annoyed.

He just… waited.

Obeyed.

Because of course he did.

She approached, steps measured, the soft click of her boots echoing gently now that the others were gone. The air was quiet. Heavy.

She stopped a few paces away, staring directly into his eyes.

"…Leonard," she said.

Astron blinked once. No other change.

Eleanor's voice didn't rise. "Do you know him?"

Silence.

The air held.

And Eleanor didn't look away.

Because this wasn't about scolding him. It wasn't about a missed signal or a passive response. This was about what he might know. About what he might be hiding—if he was hiding anything.

And it began with that name.

Leonard.

His spell had been precise.

His posture, too calm.

His artifact—not regulation.

His intent…

Controlled.

Too controlled.

And Astron—of all people—had stood right in its eye and never blinked.

There was no way he hadn't felt that.

Astron remained motionless, and Eleanor watched him with a precision that would've made most seasoned cadets buckle.

Still no answer.

Still no shift in his posture.

But she wasn't expecting panic. Not from him. Not from Astron Natusalune. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

'If anyone felt it,' she thought, 'it would've been him. Or Irina.'

She could dismiss the others—Jasmine and Layla were perceptive in their own ways, but not refined for this. Sylvie, perhaps, might have sensed something faint. But she didn't have the training to interpret it.

But Astron?

He had no excuse.

'When I arrived, Leonard's intent was already narrowed. Controlled. Clean. But the angle… the way his aura was balanced… it wasn't toward the group.'

Her jaw tensed slightly.

'It was angled forward. Not wide enough to be a threat. Just… precise enough to cover one person.'

Her eyes narrowed faintly.

'You.'

It hadn't made sense at first. Leonard had appeared cordial, passive, composed. But she had felt the sliver of pressure beneath it all. Not openly hostile—but ready. Taut.

And the second flare—brief, quiet, like a whisper hidden in a scream—it had centered near Astron.

'Maybe Leonard felt it too. Maybe that's why he was staring at you like that. Because he sensed something strange and thought it came from you. Because it did come from you… didn't it?'

She didn't speak those words aloud. Not yet.

Nothing—except the timing.

And then, he tilted his head slightly. Not mockingly. Just… inquisitive.

"But," he asked, "why did you ask, Professor? Is something the matter?"

It was clean.

Too clean.

As if he hadn't noticed the spike. As if he hadn't felt the weight of Leonard's intent focused like a razor's edge in the center of the air.

As if he hadn't felt anything.

And that was the part that made her fingers curl again.

Eleanor's gaze didn't waver. Her voice, when it came again, was quieter—but only in tone. Not in weight.

"I'm asking," she said, "because I sensed a flare."

She took a step forward. Not threatening. Not aggressive. Just closing the space between them with the authority of someone who no longer intended to play around the edges.

"A strange energy. Not elemental. Not psionic. Not anything I've catalogued in the usual spectrums. Dense. Refined. Layered."

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

"And it was incredibly strong."

That made Astron blink. Just once. A calculated reaction? Possibly. But Eleanor was watching for far more than his face now.

"I came because I felt it," she continued. "The first flare drew my attention. That was standard mana pressure—structured, clean, high-ranked. But the second one? That was something else."

She paused just long enough for silence to press in.

"And it felt like it was directed at you."

Astron didn't speak. But that stillness of his… it was no longer flat. No longer backgrounded calm. There was pressure behind it now. Subtle. Coiled. Like a spring not yet released.

Eleanor exhaled slowly and extended her hand—not toward him, but slightly upward, palm open.

She closed her eyes.

And then—channeled.

Not fully. Not casting. But tracing. Matching the impression of Leonard's aura from earlier. The sharp, precise intent that had twisted space like a thread pulled taut. She rebuilt it as best she could from memory—constructing not the spell itself, but the emotional tone behind it. The pressure. The logic of the will that had been ready to strike.

It took her a few seconds.

And then she felt it.

A tremor.